


To All the Women I've Loved Before

by daisygrl



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygrl/pseuds/daisygrl
Summary: Zelda Spellman has a lot of secrets, and her dating history is one of the biggest. What happens when Zelda opens up about all of her past relationships?





	1. Preface: Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a snapshot of Zelda's first relationship at the Academy of Unseen Arts and her coming out to Hilda. It features the only OC I will include in the story, so stay tuned for some more familiar lady loves!

Chapter 1

 

It was almost midnight on the shortest night of the year, and Zelda Spellman was livid. She had been sitting for some time in the library at the Academy, waiting to gain entrance into the restricted section that was meant for upper year students. Everything else was already in place. It was a cold, clear night, and the wind howled plaintively across the fields of cracked ice that surrounded the school. Outside, the tall pines whipped and cracked as the sap within them froze, sending amber rivulets onto the ground below, shattering like so many needles on the blue ice. Inside, Zelda was perfectly warm. The candles she had lit cast a golden glow on the ancient tomes that surrounded her, and the fractals that the frost had painted on the windows were seeping in response to the flames. She had drawn some protective sigils on the glass to keep away whatever malevolent forces might lurk on the frozen vastness of the grounds, but those, too, were in danger of melting away before the ritual could be completed. She needed to start. Soon. 

 

The flipping of pages from the next carrel over made her roll her eyes. She heaved an audible sigh, hoping it would encourage her unwelcome companion to finally vacate the library so she could get on with her spell. It was her, of course. Alice. Her only competition in her higher-level elemental magic class, and perhaps in the Academy as a whole. Alice was a brilliant witch, and Zelda had grudgingly accepted that their not-so-friendly competition had trained her to be a better, more vigilant spell-caster. And there was something about her dark eyes and the scent of vanilla that wafted off of her shiny hair that made Zelda furious. It was enough that Alice occupied her thoughts in class, but she had recently started appearing in Zelda's dreams. More often than not, Zelda had woken up with a familiar ache in the pit of her belly, confused and embarrassed. On those mornings, she avoided Alice like the plague, and only interacted with her to make a snarky comment.

 

"Hello? Are you finished yet?" Zelda looked up in surprise, her gaze meeting black eyes. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut, feeling heat rising to her cheeks. She was sure that her chest and neck were all blotchy, and that her pale face had turned an embarrassing shade of pink. "No," she responded coolly, making sure that none of her body's betrayal would be reflected in her voice. She lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow. "However, may I ask what the hold up is with  _you_? I have something...important that needs to be done tonight. Immediately, in fact. And I would prefer to do it alone." She hoped that her cold, even tone would intimidate the other girl. It worked well enough on men.

 

Alice smirked, pushing her dark hair off of her neck. The sight of her pale collarbones and the overwhelming sweetness of vanilla that settled over Zelda made her unable to do anything but stare. "I'm not planning on leaving," Alice remarked, shaking out her curls, "and I think what I've got going on is a lot more important than whatever homework you're finishing up." At that, Zelda was finally able to catch her breath. She got up without warning and peered over the side of the carrel at what the other girl was studying. "Hey!" Alice slammed the book shut. Now she was angry, her breathing coming in short, shallow bursts. Zelda was pleased. Alice's emotional outburst had just leveled the playing field. She look at the cover of Alice's book and barely managed to suppress a squeak of surprise. She looked up at the other girl in shock. "What the fuck? I thought the library only carried one copy of the  _Advanced Elemental Grimoire_. And that it was in the restricted section." She narrowed her eyes and swallowed before continuing, her throat suddenly dry. "And if you're here, like me, on the eve of the Winter Solstice, at the only north-east facing window in the Academy high enough to capture the full moon's light at the appropriate angle, then..."

 

"...we're performing the same ritual," Alice finished her sentence for her, exasperated. Zelda rolled her eyes. She hated being interrupted.  "Except," Alice continued, "the fact that we are both here might actually be a good thing. I brought the book from home, by the way. My dad had a copy." Zelda knew that she didn't like where this was going. She was looking forward to performing her ritual in perfect solitude, as was her habit. She found it easier to concentrate that way. And Satan knew that, with Alice sitting beside her and tossing her perfect, shiny hair in her face, focusing would be much more difficult. However, the ritual was one that implied, without directly stating, that the magic would be exponentially more powerful if it were fueled by two sets of magical energies. It was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.  

 

Zelda wondered if, perhaps, Alice's motivations for performing this particular spell chimed with hers. The incantation was a dark one, and it harnessed the slow, destructive power of ice to wreak havoc on another person's mind and body. Much like the immovable blue glaciers that float in frigid arctic waters, the pain that this particular spell would cause would seem eternal. Until, one day, it would begin to melt. The pain would subside, but its cold, frothy residue would submerge the mind in a kind of foggy haze that would be much more difficult to get rid of. Not impossible, of course. Mortals had a funny word that reminded her of it: "brain-freeze." Zelda chuckled mirthlessly. If only the aftermath of a cold ice cream cone could be compared to the grim shock that would soon befall the intended recipient. Soon, if all went well, it would feel like icy tendrils were weaving themselves in and around the gyri and sulci of his brain, relentlessly writhing and squeezing. ""Fine. Let's do this. But first, can I ask you something?" 

 

Alice's eyes shone slightly, and she looked resigned, almost as if she expected this. "Sure."  

 

"Why are you doing this? I mean, I know why I'm doing it. But why are you?" Zelda inquired gently. Alice sighed heavily and looked down. "If I tell you, do you promise not to say anything to anyone?"

 

"Promise."

 

"Well," Alice continued, "there is someone at the Academy who did something...bad. To me. It's not exactly what you think," she retracted desperately at Zelda's expression, confusing unanticipated recognition with skepticism. "It wasn't like he went all the way or anything. But he cornered me in one of those pentagonal rooms on the third floor. The ones at the end of the hallway that seems to go on forever?" Zelda nodded. She knew exactly which room Alice was talking about. She avoided it, planned all of her routes to class around it. "And I know, that if someone hadn't passed by at that exact moment and scared him, he would have done something awful to me." Alice's breathing was unstable and her lip was quivering slightly. Her legs were shaking compulsively, as if she were freezing to death in the balmy room. Zelda's heart was breaking. A single tear had left its trail on her cheek and dropped onto the red satin of her skirt. She took Alice by the hand. "I know." She didn't go on. She knew that Alice would understand what she meant. 

 

The moon's light was hitting the precise spot on the carpet where she had laid out her materials.  She led Alice to it and had her sit down, keeping a strong hand on her shoulder all the while. "He's a violent, brutish oaf. And he won't be bothering anyone once we're through with him," Zelda promised. Alice wiped her cheek and smiled up at her. "I'm counting on it." 

 

The sigils on the window had all but faded away. Zelda redrew them quickly with her finger, and re-lit the candles that had gone out. She approached the carpet where Alice was sitting, a plush, crimson Persian rug that was both surprisingly comfortable as well as helpful in directing and reinforcing magical intent. She briefly wondered if, perhaps, it contained a network of rather more potent fibres within it, threads that didn't consist of wool or silk.  Alice had taken the black salt crystals and drawn a circle. Rays of moonlight shone through the window in liquid silvery veins, meeting the circle of salt in the middle and at the points of each of the cardinal directions. A small sack containing short, coarse brown hair was sitting in the center, bathed in a crystal bowl full of melted ice that Zelda had harvested under the previous full moon. The two young witches held one another by the hands and looked each other in the eyes as they began the incantation. 

 

_Vulnus glaciei, vox os_

_cerebrum eius et conversus est lapis_

_Prius dissolvit gelaverit_

_et adorabat eum in dolore._

 

"Do you feel that?" Zelda shouted. The potency of their combined energies was beginning to scare her. Their magic crackled and stung around them, only barely controllable, lashing at her skin and singeing her hair. Finally, as quickly as it had begun, it subsided. The feeling was akin to the sudden calm of a light snowfall, where moments before a bitter blizzard had raged. She felt suddenly exhausted. It was possible that she had underestimated the true extent of her power. She had certainly underestimated Alice, who had finally opened her eyes and was surveying the mess of broken glass and scorched carpet fibres in front of them. "Do you think that you could stay with me tonight?" The question tumbled from Zelda's lips without a second thought. She felt tired and vulnerable, and a warm body in her bed was the only thing she could think of that might quiet the maelstrom of emotions that flailed inside of her. Alice smiled. "Sure."

 

With a flick of her wrist, the carpet was brought back to its usual state and the candles were extinguished. Alice gathered up her grimoire and took Zelda by the hand, suprising her. The two walked slowly back to Zelda's small room, their footsteps heavy on the obsidian tiles. The sound echoed up and down the cavernous hallways. Upon arrival, Zelda produced a large, brass key and pushed it into the keyhole, twisting it twice to the right, then once to the left. Alice crossed the room and climbed into her twin bed, shivering from exhaustion and from the cold. Zelda sat on the edge of the bed. Her tears were flowing freely now, and she wasn't even sure what she was crying for. As if sensing her distress, Alice put her arm around Zelda's midsection and pulled her in close. Several minutes passed that way, and Zelda realized in that time that she wanted Alice to stay with her every night. She would simply get a bigger bed.

 

She had just about been lulled to sleep when the scrape of the heavy wooden door on the tiles sent her bolting upright. Fuck. She hadn't locked the door. The bright light of a kerosene lamp had her every cell screaming in protest. They had only recently been invented, and produced light that was much harsher than any candle. Her younger sister's face appeared out of the darkness. "Zelds? I'm sorry but I couldn't - " she broke off, shocked, at the sight of the other girl in Zelda's bed. Hilda's eyes widened, and Zelda felt suddenly sick to her stomach, as if she had been caught breaking some profane edict. "Out!" She shouted at her sister, arm outstretched towards the door. It was as if venom was pumping through her blood and saturating her vision. She could only think of one thing, and that was to make sure that Hilda didn't breathe a word of this to anyone, but especially not to her parents or, hell forbid, her brother. Zelda quickly got up, ignoring Alice's questioning eyes and crossed the room, slamming the door behind her. Hilda was waiting outside, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest. Zelda's anger melted away, replaced by cold fear. How could she explain this side of herself to Hilda? It was so new, even to her. She had absolutely no way of knowing how her sister would react. "Hilda, I -"

 

"Is that your girlfriend?" Hilda's sweet voice could not have been more gentle. Zelda stood in front of her for a long moment, trying to gather herself. "I think so. Maybe."

 

"She's very pretty." The compassion in her younger sister's voice made Zelda want to cry. It was more than she deserved. She had participated in Hilda's Harrowing only months before, and she had convinced herself that she had done it because it was tradition. If she were being honest with herself, she had also done it out of cruelty, or some kind of desperate bid for power. Her baby-faced thirteen year old sister had been such an easy target, clinging to her stuffed animals and her familiars. It had made all of Zelda's peers laugh when she had enchanted her face to look like a terrifying mask and woken Hilda up in the middle of the night. At sixteen, it felt good to get that kind of attention. It was only during the last, most difficult night, that Zelda had taken pity on her younger sister. Everyone watched and jeered as Hilda desperately twisted and spun, ropes tied to her wrists, and Zelda had quietly muttered a healing charm to ease the chafing and the strain on her underarms. When Hilda was finally cut loose, she shot her the most poisonous look Zelda had ever seen and ran back to her room, which she didn't leave for several days. Every time Zelda thought about it, she felt a stab of shame like a rusty knife in her stomach. Now, Hilda took her meals and studied with a couple of her equally mousy friends, interacting with Zelda only rarely. She only came to Zelda's room when she had had a particularly bad nightmare.

 

Zelda sighed. "It's a secret, okay? I can't have anyone else know." To her embarrassment, her voice cracked. "I'm not ready." Hilda gingerly set down her lamp and her rabbit, approached Zelda, and wrapped her arms around her. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone." Zelda wondered if Hilda could feel the warm tears that were nestling among the strands of her puffy blonde hair. She sniffled slightly.

 

"Thanks."

 

 


	2. Diana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that there is so much to explore about Zelda and Diana's relationship - the way that Zelda looks at her in episode 11? Not Straight. Also, I love love love Zelda's soft moments, like when she cried at Tommy's funeral and tried to pass it off as pollen, or her comforting Sabrina after her break-up with Harvey. We stan one secretly soft and big-hearted witch. So this chapter is kind of an ode to that side of her. Stay tuned for some major drama next chapter - it's gonna get angsty!

"It'll only be for a few weeks. Two months, if that."

 

 

Zelda huffed indignantly, enjoying the way that the smoke from her cigarette curled upwards and lapped lazily at her siblings' concerned faces. Hilda wrinkled her nose in distaste, and Edward turned discreetly to the side to cough into his fist. She spoke first. "I have no problem at all seeing to the day-to-day affairs at the mortuary. I have Ambrose to help me, after all." She shot a glance at her teenage nephew, who had just arrived in the kitchen for breakfast. Her eyes narrowed. His favorite crimson robe was getting awfully wrinkled. Did no one in the family give even a passing thought to keeping up normal appearances anymore? She made a mental note to toss it on top of the laundry basket later on as a little reminder. It was made of silk, and Ambrose would think twice about leaving it in its current state if it suffered a brush with death at the hands of the washing machine. She would pass the blame off onto Hilda, if need be. She would soon be gallivanting around Europe with Edward anyhow, without a care in the world. As usual, Zelda thought to herself, it was left to her to tend to the affairs that no one else wanted to deal with.

 

"Relax, Hilda. Zelda volunteered for this. Didn't you, sister?" Another roll of her eyes, another puff of her cigarette. The embers on the end  flickered and sputtered out. Edward was right. It was true that Zelda had agreed to stay behind. As much as she didn't want to attend the funeral of some distant aunt who had only had time for Hilda and Edward when the three had been children, she was also only too happy to avoid the rounds of social visits, teas and dinner parties that every visit to the old country seemed to entail. However, the relief that had come from that particular avoidance had been quickly suppressed when she caught a glimpse of the mortuary calendar, updated regularly by Ambrose and stored in his little basement office where she hardly ever set foot. If the next couple of weeks were any indication, she was looking at at least two burials every week for the entire duration of the trip. Fabulous. 

 

"It's true," Zelda offered, "but might not it have been perhaps more sensible to plan this...exorbitantly long trip at a less busy time?" Edward chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, Zee. You'll be just fine. We could hardly have chosen a better time to go. Most of our family members will be there, and many have also decided to extend the trip." Hilda interjected with a squeak of dismay. "It's not like it was a  _choice_ , anyhow! Our auntie hardly had a choice in the matter of her death."

 

Zelda stubbed out her cigarette and took a long sip of coffee. "She was an ancient crone, and this has been a long time coming. Safe travels, and don't bother lying to anyone who asks why I am not accompanying you to the funeral. The fact of the matter is, Auntie May and I hadn't spoken in several centuries before this occurred, and I don't see any reason to place her on a pedestal now that she is finally in the ground. Come along, Tom." She stood abruptly and exited the room with a sweep of her long, velvet skirt. Vinegar Tom let out a plaintive sigh and shook his massive head before joining his mistress, as if he, too, were somehow disappointed in the remaining Spellman siblings.

Hilda looked to Edward in confusion. "Now, what do you suppose that was all about?" Edward could only shake his head and sigh. "Zee has her secrets, I suppose. I have always found that it's better not to push it." He picked up his hat and motioned towards the door. "Shall we?"

***

The spring rains soaked the grounds around the mortuary for several weeks after Hilda and Edward's departure. The first crocuses peeked out through the remaining snow and soon, the scent of rich, loamy earth and fresh grass drifted through the windows. Zelda kept them constantly open. She loved hearing the shatter of sudden, heavy rain on the porch and the crackle of thunder in the distance. Storms had been her constant comfort since childhood. 

 

Unfortunately, the waterlogged soil was incredibly heavy, which made it a nuisance when it came to burials. Too often, Zelda and Ambrose found themselves struggling to lift shovelfuls of soaked earth as the grey sky cracked and wept overhead, soaking them to the bone. On days like those, Zelda would run herself scalding baths in order to combat the effects of the weather, shivering under the weight of her rain-soaked hair on her neck and watching the water turn grey with mud. 

 One Saturday afternoon in early April, she had just finished packing the mud of a fresh grave with her shovel when her ritual was unfortunately interrupted. She straightened her back, wincing at the sudden soreness, and wiped her brow with her sleeve.  _Oh, no_. She could see a figure walking toward the house. A woman?  _This can't be good._  Zelda groaned internally. All she wanted was to be left in peace so she could brew her tea and run her bath. 

"Hi!" The woman was waving at her. She was of slight build, blonde, with cropped, wavy hair that flew in wisps around her face despite the rain. 

Zelda plastered a reluctant smile on her face. "Good afternoon. What can I do for you?" She hoped that it was nothing more than a simple inquiry about prices or flowers and that this stranger would be on her way as quickly as possible.

The woman smiled weakly in return. There was something so gentle about her eyes, Zelda thought. They were a shade of blue that recalled the estranged summer sky, and Zelda found herself craving sun for the first time in weeks.  "I have a couple of questions about...planning a service, I suppose. For my mother. She passed early yesterday morning." 

Zelda nodded. "You had better come inside."

***

The woman's name was Diana. Zelda played with it, turning it over and over in her mind. Diana. Like her Roman namesake, this particular mortal had an air of strength and absolute serenity about her, coupled with a vulnerability that made Zelda's heart ache. She finished brewing a pot of chamomile tea, slipping in a couple of drops of a calming tincture that Hilda had left discreetly by her bed, and brought to the small mortuary office. Diana turned to look at her, eyes rimmed red. She had been crying, but was clearly trying to hold it together through their meeting. Zelda poured her a cup of tea and stroked her upper arm softly, surprising herself. Mortal affairs didn't always have this effect on her, but it happened more frequently than she could bring herself to admit to her family members. It was the nature of her job that she had had to learn to separate her emotions from her work. She had interacted with so many mortals over the years, whose short lives began and were extinguished like so many flickers of a flame. Despite this, their transience, and their futile, desperate attempts to accord some semblance of meaning to their experiences, upset her deeply.

"Thank you." Diana sniffed slightly and took a long sip out of her cup. "This is really good." She let out a heavy breath that she seemed not to have realized she had been holding. "The service I have in mind won't be very big. My mother didn't have any friends, nor did she have any surviving family members. She was the sweetest person you could imagine, but she preferred her own company to that of others." Zelda nodded. That was something she could understand. Diana continued. "Really, it will only be myself and my father who will be in attendance. I've been picturing an open casket, for posterity, though I'm not sure if it will really be necessary." She paused for a moment, and Zelda noticed a couple of tears trail across her cheeks, which were pink from crying. Zelda reached over and took her hand in spite of herself. "It doesn't matter whether the service will be for two people or two hundred. If you would like your mother's casket displayed, it can be done." Diana seemed unfazed by Zelda's sudden display of intimacy. "Her and I talked about what she wanted her funeral to look like. She pictured herself surrounded by hundreds of flowers - lilies, roses. Like in a fairy-tale." 

She looked up. Her eyes were impossible big as she searched Zelda's face. The witch smiled gently, her eyes betraying the tenderness she felt for this mortal woman she had only just met. "I know a wonderful florist. Her flowers are fresh and she doesn't charge too much for them." Zelda pictured herself sneaking into Hilda's greenhouse and discreetly multiplying the bouquets by way of magic, until the room was positively overflowing.  She wanted nothing more than to make Diana's vision a reality, and by using Hilda's special fertilizer mix she could lower the cost significantly. 

Diana nodded. "That sounds perfect." She finished her tea with a last, long sip. "I had better be going. My father will start to wonder where I am." She began to get up, but paused at Zelda's hand on her forearm. "We still need to set a date," Zelda reminded her gently. "I have tomorrow and Tuesday available. If that doesn't work, there's the following Friday." Diana seemed surprised at Zelda's efficiency. "You can have everything ready by tomorrow?" Zelda nodded. She was nothing if not efficient, and she would stay up all night if she had to. She hoped that Diana could sense the comfort that she wanted so desperately to provide. She felt suddenly self-conscious, her normally pale cheeks flaming. What if Diana could also discern that which she didn't want her to know about? The hopeless crush she could feel blossoming within her made her feel both guilty and mortified.  _Diana's mother has just died_ , she chastised herself,  _and yet here you are, thinking about yourself._  In an effort to salvage an iota of professionalism, Zelda stood abruptly and walked to the door. "I am here to help if you need anything else. Anything at all," she offered earnestly. "Call or come by any time." Diana smiled. "Thank you." She gathered her jack off of the back of her chair. "I appreciate that. See you tomorrow."

***

Zelda didn't have to wait long to see Diana after the funeral. It had gone off without a hitch, and Zelda, ever the perfectionist, had inundated the small function space with clouds of white lilies and creamy roses. Ambrose had raised an eyebrow at her handiwork but, thankfully, hadn't questioned her dedication to its execution. 

That evening, she was  lounging on the sofa in front of the fireplace, basking in the warm glow and lost in her habitual rereading of Shakespeare's collected works. Her decanter of whiskey sat beside her, and every so often she would indulge in a long swig of liquid amber, savoring its sweet smokiness as it slid down her throat and pooled in her belly. She was in the middle of one of her favorite soliloquies, taking pleasure in every idiosyncratic turn of phrase. She chuckled to herself. Lady Macbeth was calling on the spirits to unsex her so that she could be filled with direst cruelty, not realizing that in fully embracing their infernal aid there would be no need whatsoever to discard her femininity. Zelda had always wondered if Shakespeare had originally written Lady Macbeth as a witch, long-lost sister to the three introduced in the first act. Of course, the obsessive revulsion to blood she would demonstrate later on was nothing if not utterly mortal. Disappointingly so. 

A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts. She rolled her eyes and closed her book. It was nearly midnight, for Satan's sake. What could possibly be so urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning? She strode across the hall, shaking out her hair and tightening the sash of her silk robe. 

A shivering Diana stood on the porch, soaked with rain. At the sight of Zelda's expression, which had quickly turned from confusion to compassion, a glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't sleep and... I don't know what it was exactly, but something drew me back here. Somehow, being around you made me feel safe for the first time since my mother died. And I know you don't know me at all but..."

She was interrupted by Zelda's arms around her, her face suddenly ensconced in a soft mesh of amber curls. They smelled like smoke and whiskey and roses. Diana started crying in earnest as Zelda softly rubbed her back, heart beating so quickly she thought she might pass out.  _I need to put her to bed_ , Zelda thought.  _Nothing else can happen tonight, no matter what she thinks she might want._

"Come with me." Zelda pulled away and took Diana's hand. She lead her into the foyer and up the flights of stairs, checking back every so often to make sure Diana was alright. They arrived at Zelda and Hilda's room. She felt suddenly embarrassed at the prospect of Diana seeing the room she shared with her sister. It was childish, but Zelda had begged Hilda to stay with her when she had stopped sleeping a few decades ago. The insomnia had passed, but Hilda had never moved out and Zelda had never reminded her to. She then felt guilty for feeling embarrassed. _It's not like she'll care. She has other things on her mind._

Zelda took out a pair of Hilda's pajamas for Diana to try on. They were made of soft, grey fleece, and she thought that Diana might prefer something comfortable over her own collection of lacy negligees and silk robes. She didn't know why she kept them, really. It's not like she had been getting much action in recent years. And yet, she couldn't bear to throw them away. Her nightgowns were souvenirs of a wild and carefree youth, which she had spent on Italian beaches and in French jazz-clubs. She had even spent several decades living in Japan upon completion of her studies at the Academy, where she had taken on a rather more ascetic lifestyle to balance out the brazen hedonism of her earlier travels. 

She had been right to offer Diana the more comfortable pair. She politely averted her eyes as Diana stripped off her own clothes to put them on, catching only a fleeting glimpse of the soft, pale curve of her back. When she looked up, Diana was sitting on her bed. She looked exhausted but noticeably calmer, a far cry from the frenzied desperation she had displayed earlier. Zelda couldn't help but smile. She was glad that Diana felt safe with her. She went over and sat beside her. "Are you sure you're alright?" Diana nodded. Zelda reached over and turned out the light, and shifted closer to Diana in the dark. She felt the urge to put her arms around her, to kiss her neck and pull her close, but she couldn't let herself. Not tonight, when this stranger-turned-unexpected-bedfellow was still so obviously fragile. Instead, she turned around. She could sense Diana's disappointment, but she knew that whatever Diana had expected from her tonight wouldn't have been healthy to indulge. No, she would make sure that when they did sleep together, it wouldn't be born out of misplaced desperation for affection and intimacy. It would be real.

 


	3. Aftermath: Diana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much to be said about the small snippets of Zelda and Diana's relationship we got in the last episode. There is so much pain and guilt but also this weird deep understanding/bond between them?? So this is my interpretation of what might have happened to make it that way. I fully see that there are more canonically-likely reasons, ie Zelda's traditionalism and disdain for mortals, but I love a good lesbian backstory. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

The Greendale Woods

2002

 

Zelda held the twitching bundle in her arms, cooing softly to the little girl who was staring up at her. The baby was blonde, just like her mother, with downy tufts of soft, white hair covering her head. Her eyes were still blue, but Zelda knew that in a few months, they would turn deep and dark like Edward's. Like her own. Despite the cold wind that cut through the layers of wool she was wearing, the baby seemed to be warm in her fleece blanket. Her tiny pink mouth was slightly open, and every so often she breathed out a peaceful, milky sigh. Zelda smiled. She was exquisite. 

 

To her left, Diana was lying on a slab of stone, only barely supported by the dozens of of thick blankets that Zelda, Hilda and Edward had collected and brought from home. Her back was supported haphazardly by couch cushions, and her tiny, weary frame was lost in the enormous duvet that Hilda had insisted on taking with them. Zelda had to admit to herself that bringing along something so warm had been an excellent idea on her sister's part. Diana would surely have frozen half to death had the evening's events been carried out the way Edward had intended. She rolled her eyes at his idiocy. When he had approached her months ago, telling her his plans to have the birth carried out in the Greendale Woods, she had dismissed them as the ravings of a lunatic. He had insisted, and to Zelda's surprise, even Diana had agreed to it. And it had not been an easy labor, nor an easy birth. Zelda had become increasingly worried as midnight approached that her considerable talents were no match for the successful delivery of a half-human, half-witch. A hybrid entity whose powers she couldn't begin to fathom. All her fear had melted away as soon as the cord had been cut and the beautiful little creature placed on her mother's chest, dozing peacefully. After a few hours, Diana asked Zelda to take the baby while she slept for the first time in two days. And now Zelda couldn't tear her gaze away her niece, sleeping so soundly in her arms. She felt something gnawing and vulnerable and electric in her chest that she didn't recognize and didn't quite have a name for.

 

"How is she?" Diana's groggy voice shocked Zelda out of her musings. "She's doing well. She's awake but she isn't crying, which is unusual and, dare I say, lucky." Zelda shook her head slightly as if to expunge what had just happened, the sudden wave of emotions that had overwhelmed her. Diana sounded even more exhausted than Zelda would have expected. It was as if a thousand years had passed since she had been able to rest. "Go back to sleep, Diana. I'll give the little one to Hilda. She's just dying to say hello." At that, she smiled fondly at her niece, laughing out loud when one of the baby's pink, meaty fists reached up to grab a fistful of amber hair.  _You and I are going to get along just fine._  The baby gurgled and smiled up at her as if she somehow understood what Zelda was silently communicating to her. Diana cleared her throat. "Will you come back after you take her to Hilda? I need to talk to you."

 

Zelda smiled tightly. "Fine. Give me a moment." She knew that Diana would try something like this once they were finally alone together. Edward was across the clearing, whispering with Damien Blackwood, as if the baby was only second in importance to whatever the two of them were planning. Zelda felt a twinge of annoyance.  The recently retired High Priest was Edward's mentor and a surrogate father of sorts. Recently, Edward had become rather close friends with Damien's son, a charismatic, moody young man by the name of Faustus. Zelda hadn't understood why Edward looked up to their High Priest the way that he did until it had been announced that he was to be Damien's successor. The blatant favoritism had worked out well for Edward, even if rumours swirled about the shady dealings of his mentor. It was even said that he had seized his post on dubious, if not outright amoral, grounds.

 

She turned around, the heels of her boots sinking into the rotting layers of golden October leaves that papered the ground. "Hilda!" 

 

"Coming, Zee!" Hilda appeared suddenly from the side of the clearing, where she had been busy laying out various infusions, tonics, and tinctures for Diana to use in order to combat all manner of postpartum ailments. She shuffled over and took the baby from Zelda, squealing with delight at the sight of the her tiny, perfect face. "Oh my goodness, who do we have here? She's precious, isn't she? Oh, I love you so much already, my sweet girl. Ooh yes..." Leaving Hilda to her cooing and murmuring, Zelda straightened her back and walked back to where Diana was resting. 

 

She sat beside Diana on her makeshift bed, ignoring the corner of the duvet that Diana was offering to her. Yes, she was cold. The wind had turned particularly bitter and unforgiving, whipping frantically through the sharp, black trees above. Even so, there was no way in heaven that she would sit there, sharing a blanket with Diana and maintaining a facade of friendliness as if they were schoolgirls at a slumber party. Zelda sighed heavily, wringing her hands. "What is it that you want from me, Diana?"

Diana's eyes were as large and lovely as when Zelda had first seen them almost five years ago. She searched Zelda's face as if she was looking for an answer that she knew she wasn't going to find. "We haven't spoken in so long, Zee. And I'm not talking about snippets of conversations at my prenatal appointments. I just ... can't stand the tension between us." Her voice wavered slightly. "Please, talk to me." She begged.

 

At this, Zelda felt a hot flash of anger snap through her. "You want to talk? Fine, I'll talk." A dark pool of rage and hurt simmered inside of her, pulsing and swelling until it was the only thing she could feel. "I know we weren't together long. And -" her voice cracked. She wiped her tears angrily and continued, listening to her voice rise as if she was experiencing the exchange from somewhere outside of herself. "And I know that we were never really in a relationship. Because you didn't want to be. Because you weren't ready." Zelda's breathing came in short, shallow bursts, but when she spoke, her voice was impossibly soft. "But the year we spent together was the best year of my life. And I was so, so in love with you." She felt tears pooling in her eyes and spilling over. She was mortified that her innermost thoughts and feelings had been put on display like this. It felt as though someone had taken an axe to her sternum and cracked open her chest, releasing years of pent-up heartbreak and humiliation. Only Hilda could attest to what that really felt like. She felt a cold, familiar wave of horror and shame. Perhaps this was what she deserved, if only as penance for the way that she had treated Hilda.

 

Zelda kept her eyes down, not wanting to look at the other woman's face. She knew that Diana was crying silently, and she didn't want to give her any semblance of empathy or tenderness. She didn't want to feel anything at all. But waves of pain continued to crest and froth within her, and she shook and whimpered like an animal, no longer able to formulate coherent thoughts. 

 

Her mind traveled back to the day when it had all gone belly-up. The Spellman siblings and Diana had been sitting at the kitchen table when Edward's hand had wandered over and grabbed Diana's. Hilda clapped and giggled, thrilled for the pair of them. Diana's eyes met Zelda's across the kitchen table, steeped in fear, silently begging her to accept it for what it was. At that moment, it was as though something had snapped within Zelda. Her eyes flashed black, and she managed a tight smile and a sip of tea before excusing herself. 

 

In the weeks prior to the incident, Diana had pulled away, insisting that the two stop what they were doing. People were beginning to ask questions, she said. Zelda spent the next two days in bed, cradling her decanter and crying silently. She remembered Hilda asking if she was ill. She also remembered nodding eagerly, thankful for her sister's inadvertent explanation as to why she hadn't eaten or moved in days. Neither Edward nor Hilda ever found out that Zelda and Diana had been sleeping together, though she was sure that Hilda had had her suspicions. 

 

Diana's voice was soaked with regret when she finally spoke. However, it was remarkable steady, as if she knew what she had done to Zelda but wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

 

"Zelda. I am so sorry for the pain I caused you. You didn't deserve any of it." She shuddered and took a deep breath. "I was a coward, and I admit it freely. I couldn't...I couldn't. My father would have disowned me. He was the only family I had left, and after my mother died, it felt like too great a sacrifice to make. And then I met your brother, and he was everything I was looking for in a partner. And I -" Diana's voice finally broke, tears flowing over. "I wanted so desperately to love you they way I love him. It was so new to me, all of it." Zelda was shaking with rage. If she thought that this little confession was going to make things better between them, she had missed the mark rather spectacularly. Her magic crackled and sputtered around her, weaving itself around her in sparking tendrils. If Diana noticed, she gave no indication. "I realized that I couldn't be with a woman. Even if she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen." The blonde paused for a moment and steeled herself, as if she knew that the next thing she was going to say was going to cause all heaven to break loose. "And Edward could give me a child. All I wanted was a family of my own. I'm so sorry, Zee. I should have been honest with you about all of this. I know that I didn't handle it well, and that I never sat down with you and talked to you about it. I'm a coward, like I said. I think I convinced myself that it was alright because we were just ... just sleeping together. But I know now, and, if I'm being honest with myself, I knew then, that it meant more than that." 

Zelda wanted to laugh. The storm of emotions that was brewing inside of her had calmed suddenly. She felt as though she were standing in the eye of the hurricane. They sat in silence for a moment before she answered. "You are a coward."

Diana's eyes opened wide for a second before she turned away, resigned. Zelda continued, heat building in her chest and rising to her cheeks. Her magic was whipping around her now, raw and frenzied. Her mind flashed to Edward's disapproval had he ever found out, the Church of Night's staunch traditionalism. "You're a fucking coward. I was ready to give up everything for you. Everything." She paused, choking out a sob. "And what I felt for you wasn't just some unrequited crush. I know you were in love with me, too. You'll just never admit it, because you're too scared to admit to yourself that you're not who you thought you were."  _An aberration. An oddity._  Her mind flashed back for a moment to a memory that she tried to bury. Sixteen years old, her last summer at Auntie May's. Her palms red and stinging, her aunt's voice ringing in her ears in between cracks of a birch rod.  _You will never be normal. You're an abomination. A freak of nature._  The nosy old hag had been sifting through her things and had uncovered some letters from Alice. When she had arrived back at the Academy in the fall, she had ignored Alice and buried herself in her studies. It had been many years until she felt comfortable enough in her own skin to pursue other women. But none of them had ever mattered to her like Diana.

Zelda wiped her tears away angrily and stared at the cold ground underneath her feet, watching as the dead leaves seemed to bite and snap at one another in the wind, like so many rabid dogs. Her voice was soft when she spoke next. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone about what happened between us." She sighed, exhausted and resigned. "I don't ever want to talk about it again." A single tear trailed down her cheek, and again, her voice cracked, betraying her. "I don't ever want to feel this way again." She watched as it fell onto her folded hands.

Diana nodded. She took Zelda's hand in hers, and Zelda thought about snatching it away. But she stayed, allowing herself to be comforted by the woman she swore she would never speak to again. Diana had a way of making her break all of her own rules.

"Okay."

  


	4. Fissure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drama continues - this chapter wraps up the Diana/Zelda storyline (along with a healthy dose of sugary, fluffy Spellman family bonding!)  
> TW for referenced self-harm; we all know that Zelda internalizes her pain to the extreme and has developed some really unhealthy coping mechanisms for dealing with it. 
> 
> Note: because of the events of season 2, I'm starting a new fic to explore the relationship between Lilith and Zelda. This one has reached a natural stopping point, anyway. Thank you so much for the kudos and especially for the comments. I appreciate them so much - you guys are so lovely. See you soon with some new material!

Chapter 4

"Yes, that's it, my love. That's it."  Zelda offered to the tiny blonde girl who was swaying and tripping on her own feet in front of her. She gripped Sabrina's thick middle gently with her hands, and watched the baby's curious hands grab greedily at her rings and the long strands of red hair that cascaded into her path. Sabrina's soft shirt wrinkled under Zelda's touch, and her niece squealed with laughter. Zelda beamed with pride. It was just like Sabrina to be ahead of all the other children her age. Not even nine months old, and already walking. Soon, she would have to cast protective spells all throughout the house, charms that would whittle away and polish sharp corners and disguise enticing, toddler-sized holes. 

 

She tore her gaze from the baby and looked out past the porch swing to the meadow in front of the house. Fireflies were floating lazily in the long grass, which had been baking all day in the summer sun and smelled of citrus and honey.  It was a beautiful night in mid-June. The moon above was massive and shone as if it, too, had been polished with magic. Its light soaked the pines that surrounded the mortuary. They shone spectacularly, endowed with the appearance of having been carved out of silver. The sky above was deep blue velvet, punctuated with glowing constellations. It was silent, save for the chirping of crickets and Sabrina's occasional babbling. Zelda let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She hadn't been able to truly appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, the slow change of the seasons, since the ill-fated trip to Rome back in mid-February. Every morning since, she had woken with a start, panicky and hyperventilating, reminded instantly of what had happened. There was no solace. Even on nights like these, when all that surrounded her was beauty, she was unable to take it in. The accident, if that's really what it had been, weighed heavily on her mind. It had the cold, heavy feel of a coiled snake. Every morning and evening, she choked down Hilda's calming tonics and popped numbing capsules, desperate for relief. And yet, the guilt and fear seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her medial temporal lobe, hissing and periodically spitting venom. 

 

She remembered it all as if it had been yesterday.

 

***

 

_The phone clattered to the floor. Silence, then a piercing shriek._

_Zelda was in the kitchen, reading her newspaper. She stood abruptly, wincing at the harsh scrape of the wooden chair legs against the tile. Blast it. She had been meaning to put floor protectors on the kitchen chairs for ages. "Hilda? Hilda, what in Satan's name are you carrying on about? I've only just succeeded in convincing Sabrina to go to sleep, and if she wakes up -"_

_She was interrupted by a low, heavy sob that echoed out from the hallway. She froze. That wasn't right. She felt herself drop her cigarette holder and run across the kitchen and down the hall, tight dress cutting into her thighs and heels singing against the polished surface. Hilda was on the floor, sobbing and shaking. Zelda knelt down by her side and took her face in her hands. "Hilda. You're scaring me. What happened? Who were you on the phone with just now?"_ _Hilda could only shake her head in response, her face streaked with tears._

_"Hilda! Answer me!" Zelda demanded frantically. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. What on earth could have happened to make Hilda react this way? Unless...no. It couldn't be. Unless..._

_She watched as Hilda struggled to breathe. She managed to choke out one word. And Zelda understood._

_Accident._

_It was as if time had suddenly stopped. Zelda let go of Hilda's face and stood up. She managed the shaky steps up the staircase and into the bedroom, where she closed the door and snapped her fingers, locking it. She sank to her knees, her face a mask of horrified panic, frozen in a silent scream. She brought her hands to her mouth so as not to make a sound, and finally released the torrent of emotion within her._ My fault. It's my fault. It's my fault It's my fault it's my fault it's my fault my fault my fault it's mine it's mine it's mine oh Satan no please I'll do anything please take me instead -

 

_She realized he had been scratching at her upper arms, drawing blood. Crimson rivulets ran down her pale skin and soaked into her velvet dress, mixing with the salty tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. She lay on her side and watched as her vision grew blurry with saltwater, listening to the slow pounding of her heart. Every beat reminded her that she was alive, and that her brother and his wife lay somewhere off the coast of Italy in the wreckage of a horrific plane crash. An accident._

_Only, if there was one thing Zelda was sure of, it was that it had been no accident. As High Priest, Edward had been endowed with certain special privileges. Some had been paid for in blood, others through various other means. One such method made Zelda's blood run cold every time she thought about it. She had been there, held the babe, signed her own name as a witness in her own blood, in the Greendale woods three days after Sabrina's birth. The idea of signing away the little girl's ability to make an individual choice regarding her future had struck Zelda as abhorrent, repulsive. But she had swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and signed. Because Edward had wanted her too. Because Edward always got his way. And if_ _she were being truly honest with herself, the knowledge that Diana would never approve had satisfied a sick, nasty urge that emanated from deep inside of her._

_Even though the appropriate price had been paid, the coven hadn't approved of the unholy (or was it, rather, holy?) union of warlock and mortal. For weeks, there had been whispers as Zelda and her family arrived on Saturday nights for Unholy Mass. She ignored the jeers and muttering around her, kneeling in the pews and letting her hair hide her reddening cheeks. She hadn't experienced this kind of total societal rejection since her last year at the Academy. Except that back then, the gossip and muckraking had died down after several weeks. It certainly hadn't affected Zelda's standing for long, though her chest still burned when she thought about it._

_Zelda managed to kept her mouth shut about the unrest within the coven until one night when Faustus cornered her in the nave of the Church of Night, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a confessional._

_"What in Satan's name do you think y_ _ou're doing? Release me immediately!"_

_"It's my Father, Zelda." Faustus had a wild, desperate look in his black eyes. "He has it out for your brother. He regrets naming him as his successor. All Edward has done since gaining his status has been to use it as a way of creating upheaval, turning our unholy traditions on their heads."_

_Zelda furrowed her brow. "Is Edward in danger?" She asked, suddenly sick with fear._

_Faustus nodded. "I think so."_

_That evening, as Sabrina and Diana sat and played in the living room, Zelda motioned to Edward from the doorway. She turned on her heel and walked quickly down the hall, past the rows of sconces that cast a dim, golden glow on the otherwise inky walls. She stopped in the kitchen and turned around, her eyes wide with panic._

_"I don't think you should go to Rome."_

_Edward smiled lovingly and put his arm around his sister. "And why ever not, sister? Are you jealous that I'm going on a trip, and that you have to stay here and mind the family business? You don't always have to do that, you know. Next time, you should come with us! Hilda can always stay behind when you finally decide to take a break." He ran his hand through his thick hair and shot her a sympathetic glance. "You deserve it, Zee. You work too hard."_

_Zelda looked down, her voice shaking. "I'm afraid there might not_ be  _a next time, Edward! I've heard awful things, whispering..."_

_Edward interrupted her with a laugh. "Is that what this is about, sister? Some idle chin-wagging among the coven dullards during Unholy Mass? You're going soft, Zee. I wouldn't have imagined that something so harmless would manage to scare you like this." At this, Zelda's eyes flashed open and met Edwards, sparking with frustration. "It's not harmless! Faustus told me that his own father, your mentor, regrets naming you his successor, and that -"_

_Her brother's face darkened suddenly. "What?"_

_"You heard me!"_

_Edward shook his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, "that after all these years, you're still jealous that Damien chose to mentor me and not you. That's petty, Zee. I know that you're a brilliant witch, you know it, why isn't that enough?" He grimaced. "Even for you, trying to drive a wedge between Damien and I is a low blow."_

_Zelda wanted to scream. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish. How could he think that? It was humiliating that he still remembered their petty childhood competition for the then-High Priest's attention. It wasn't as if she had stood a chance, anyhow. Damien Blackwood was notorious for favoring the boys at the Academy, corralling the girls into ever-narrowing paths of study that he deemed "appropriate for the ladies." She felt her cheeks turning pink, and tears of rage pricked her eyes. "This isn't about some childhood grudge, Edward! I'm worried about you."_

_The next words he spoke felt like a slap to her face. "Don't bother, Zelda. You know what? I've never really understood why you can't just be happy for me. I'll call you from Rome." With that, he gathered his things, took his wife and daughter, and left. And that was the last time she saw him._

_She let Hilda answer the door when they came to drop Sabrina off on the morning of their flight, listening to their cheerful chatter from underneath her duvet._ Let them go _, she had thought to herself._ He's right. Maybe I  _am_  overreacting out of some kind of petty resentment. There's no way a bastard that lucky will fall prey to what is obviously just some frivolous chatter. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just looking for excuses to deny him the pleasure of having it all.  _She cried herself to sleep that night, shaking with anger and occasionally swigging violently from her flask. Hilda had simply ignored her, fearing an excursion to the Cain Pit that would have come as a result of her nosiness. Zelda eventually fell into a fitful slumber. The next morning, the phone call came. And the world ended._

_***_

"Zee!" Sabrina's tiny voice pierced through Zelda's anxious trance. Her shallow, desperate breathing had clearly alarmed the little girl. Zelda's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

 

The tiny blonde smiled an impish smile, clearly relieved to have her aunt's attention. "Zee! Zee!"

 

Zelda's bottom lipped trembled. "Did you just say my name? As your first word?"

 

"Zee!"

 

Zelda picked up her niece and hugged her tightly, pressing her cheek to her fuzzy, blonde hair, and feeling her warm tears mix with the downy tufts of her niece's hair. "You're a sweet, smart girl." She sniffled and smiled as Sabrina brought her tiny hand to Zelda's face, gently feeling for the source of the dampness in her hair. The crickets chirped around them as Zelda sat cross-legged with Sabrina in her lap, pointing to different objects and saying their names, observing with delight Sabrina's attempts to emulate the sounds that she was hearing. And as she watched Sabrina discovering the world, she found herself seeing the fireflies, the grass, and the moon as if for the first time.  

 

Hilda appeared in the doorway, smiling to herself. Zelda turned and smiled back at her sister, relieved to see her. She knew Hilda had been sick with worry, watching as Zelda had stopped eating, stopped sleeping, washing sheets with faint traces of blood that Zelda had clearly tried desperately to remove. Tonight, for the first time since the accident, she felt a faint glimmer of hope.

 

"Has she been talking?" Hilda wondered aloud, eyes open wide in awe. Zelda felt a surge of pride in her chest. "Watch this." She rubbed Sabrina's back. "Sweetheart, say my name for Auntie Hilda. Say 'Zee.'"

 

"Zee!"

 

Hilda clapped and squeaked with delight. "Oh my goodness! Her first word - I can't believe it! She's barely nine months old!" Her voice grew gentle. "And she already knows who her Night Mother is." Zelda smiled fondly back at Hilda. It was hardly the first time she had been caught off guard by her sister's selflessness. Hilda was simply happy for her, happy about her and Sabrina's connection. There wasn't a jealous bone in Hilda's body.

 

Zelda's mind drifted back to the conversation she had had with Diana on the night Sabrina had been born. After they had both had a chance to calm down, Diana had shot her a strange look. 

 

_There's one more thing, Zee." Diana sounded nervous but hopeful. "Ed and I talked, and we want you to be Sabrina's Night Mother. We both agreed that it has to be you. Hilda understands. We told her about it the other day while you were in the shower."_

_Zelda nodded. She remembered thinking that the short visit was strange, made stranger by the fact that her brother and sister-in-law hadn't even stayed the five minutes it took her to swipe on lipstick and come downstairs._

_Her thoughts turned to her niece. The tiny, precious bundle that Hilda was fawning over. She thought about trips to the park, books to be read, sleep-overs and ice cream outings. She wanted to watch Sabrina's eyes widen as she listened to her aunt's voice narrate complicated tales that smelled like ancient dust and starlight and glimmered with ideas that Sabrina would one day recognize as residing deep within her. The aching familiarity of knowing that what she thought and felt had been thought and felt in countless iterations across time and space. Zelda wanted to take her to stand in front of the ocean, under the sky pulsing with the light of seemingly infinite stars, and watch her marvel at the power of nature and at the human capacity to appreciate it. She wanted to watch her form friendships, to teach her how to read, and most importantly, how to harness the magic that even now, crackled and sparked within her. She wanted to watch Sabrina grow and play and love and learn. A lump formed in her throat, but this time, it was from joy._

_She smiled so wide she thought her face might split. "Yes. It would be an honour."_


End file.
